ode to my mom

So, it's Mother's Day once again, and a holiday which was likely originally sincere and heartfelt has become one of those obligatory Hallmark holidays which should really be recognized daily throughout the year, like Father's Day. And Valentine's Day, and Grandparents Day, and Secretary's Day... you get the picture.

See, the thing is, my mom is Mom 365 days out of the year. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, weekends, holidays - you name it, she wears that motherly title without ceasing. I guess that's the nature of moms. I don't recognize her for scrubbing the kitchen floors, baking the best cookies, driving the carpool, or packing my lunch. I recognize her for being my mom. Not that she didn't do these things, just that that's not why I love her so much or why she deserves recognition. My mom is more than biologically my mother, more than the Webster's definition of a mother. She's my friend, my heartfelt companion, and the one that I always think of when I am feeling the most pathetic. Sure, the idea that your mom will never let you down is kind of trite. But guess what? MY MOM will never let me down! That's just the way she is, and that's pretty much why I love her in a nutshell.

She thinks we're a lot alike. Trust me, I felt completely ridiculous the first time I realized that this was the unavoidable truth (mostly because the day that I really realized this I was squealing about a disgusting bug that was sprinting through my dining room). I used to think that there was no way I would allow myself to turn into a woman who can't phone in her own pizza. And while I still pride myself in my ability to talk to the guy at Papa John's, deep down in my heart I understand that there is really no better person I could be. She's my MOM, for goodness' sake! I am blessed to be her, in different form. And so, without further ado, I say thank you to the woman who gave me half of who I am genetically, the one who did a great job choosing the man who would be my dad, the one who packed all those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches... I have piles of memories of laughing with you, crying with you, and just being your daughter. You used to tell me to never grow up - and now I ask the same of you: never grow old, Mom; I don't know what I would do without you.